


Entropy

by lifeaftermeteor



Series: Life After Meteor [8]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: BROTPs abound, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Endless Waltz, Post-Series, Preventers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With AC 201 comes the decline into disorder and an unstoppable spinning, for better or worse.  Duo is noticeably absent, his life all but consumed by the case on L2.  Wufei grows increasingly frustrated with his job while Heero is worn down by the same, alongside his concern for his roommate.  Meanwhile, Trowa and Quatre's relationship meets its inevitable end.  However, not all uncertainty is bad - Relena reconnects with a long-lost confidant and Une finds a new appreciation for Sally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 8 of the [Life After Meteor](http://archiveofourown.org/series/391015) series, which trails the Gundam Pilots (and others) through the years post-war. Welcome comments/feedback.

**Unit #1312, Preventers HQ Subsidized Housing Complex  
Geneva, Switzerland  
201 February 16**

As it happened, it was 43 days that Duo was gone. 

At first, Heero had waited for the other man to reach out and re-establish contact, but when two weeks went by without word, he shot off a quick email. Duo had responded with an equally quick reply: “I’m fine. Glad I came. These guys really need help.” The brevity was the first warning sign, as far as Heero was concerned.

The stint with the L2 branch ran over the thirty days originally anticipated by nearly a week, and Duo had told him that HQ had started poking Campbell to release his detailee. When he finally did so, Duo high-tailed it for a much-needed break with Hilde, which left Heero both envious and confused. Duo never took vacations which weren’t somehow built around a holiday as he hated being idle.

That was the second warning sign.

So now, 43 days since their parting, Heero stood waiting in the Geneva shuttle port’s reception hall, a massive iced coffee in hand. He watched as a familiar face slowly wove its way through the throng to their pre-determined meeting place. When their eyes met, Duo’s face softened, his lips sliding easily into a smile that appeared more relieved than happy. 

Once they were within arm’s distance, Heero passed him the coffee and, as soon as the other man had a grip on the drink, spread his arms open wide to the sides in invitation.

“Coffee, _then_ the hug. Even in the right order,” Duo laughed, all but collapsing into the offered embrace. “Christ, I missed you.”

“Likewise.” As they pulled away from each other, Heero transferred the strap of Duo’s duffel bag to his own shoulder, and dismissed any protests with a look. Duo for his part rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue; instead, he quietly drank his coffee and fell into step with his roommate. Warning bells went off in Heero’s head again, and he gave the other man a sidelong glance. 

He was thinner. Heero said as much and Duo shrugged, noncommittal. “Stress I guess. You know how it is.” 

He didn’t elaborate further and Heero didn’t push. This wasn’t the place for it.

They spent the tram ride back to the apartment in shared silence, Duo uncharacteristically quiet as he made short work of his coffee while Heero ran the pad of his thumb over the worn strap of Duo’s bag where it hung on his shoulder. 

It was only after they reached the apartment, the door closing behind them, that Duo sighed and stretched his arms overhead, seeming to release some pent-up tension at last. After a beat, he turned to Heero to take back his duffel. “I think I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, finishing off the last of his coffee. “Maybe a nap, too,” he muttered rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. 

“You hungry?” Heero asked.

“Not really,” Duo answered.

Heero squinted at him. “Have you eaten today?” he amended.

Duo repeated, sheepishly this time, “Not really.”

Heero nodded, having assumed as much. “Go shower,” he instructed. “I’ll pull something out, and then you can sleep.”

Duo answered with an, “Alright, alright,” as he headed down the hall. 

Once Duo had disappeared from sight, Heero moved into their kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Truth be told, there wasn’t much to offer – he wasn’t much of a cook – but fruit they had. He pulled out an apple and shut the refrigerator door with his foot as he turned to their countertop to slice the thing into finger food. He put the slices on a plate he pulled down from the overhead cabinet and returned to the common area.

Taking a seat on the couch, he was left to his own devices for only a few minutes before he was once more joined by his roommate. Clad in a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweats – which Heero was pretty sure were actually _his_ – Duo hopped easily onto the other side of the couch, a towel draped around his shoulders. Once situated, Duo then began to viciously rub his hair dry in the towel.

Heero watched in silence for a moment, then asked, “How was it?”

“Shower was great,” Duo told him with a lop-sided grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Detail was fine,” he added, knowing full-well that was what Heero had asked about.

“You said they needed help,” Heero reminded him. “How so?”

Duo shook his head and rolled his eyes, laying the towel over the arm of the couch behind him. His dark hair – still damp – hung about his shoulders in long tendrils that pooled in his lap. “They’re all running around with their badges and guns. Half of them I think were living in their green jackets. There’s only one colonial among the whole office and he’s some forensics guy out of L1. And they wonder why no one talks to them.”

“So plain clothes only from here on out?”

“Well, that for one. Creating a vocab blacklist for two.”

“Like?”

Duo reached out and grabbed a few slices of fruit which he chewed as he answered. “Like…stop calling it a ‘statement’ when you’re taking a statement. And in the same vein, stop telling your witnesses you want to ask them questions. You’re talking to them; not interrogating them.”

“Words carry power, so it’s important to be aware of the sensitivities,” Heero acknowledged, “but I guess I wouldn’t have thought the word ‘questions’ would have been so loaded.”

“When there’s nearly two thousand citizens still unaccounted for after being detained by the authorities in that island _alone_ , you’d be leery of ‘questions’ too,” Duo told him. He swallowed down another piece of fruit and focused on the space between them. “Campbell wants me back.”

“Oh?”

Duo nodded. “I had to come back because of the detail parameters, but he’s working a deal with headquarters so I can go back.”

This caught Heero off-guard. “You _want_ to go back?” he asked, knowing the question betrayed his surprise.

Duo lifted his eyes once more to meet Heero’s gaze. Leaning back a bit, he raised his arms overhead and threaded his fingers through his damp hair. As he spoke, he began to braid with practiced ease. “‘Want’ is too strong a word, maybe. These guys are onto something, Heero. It’s much bigger than a simple small arms trade. They know it too. There’s a thread that leads off-colony but we haven’t been able to pull on it yet.” He flipped the growing queue over his left shoulder and continued to plate to the ends. “I dunno. I want to fly again, but…but I feel like I’m invested now, like I’m committed. And I can’t leave them in the lurch.”

Heero mulled this over for a time. When he spoke, he kept his voice even, “You need to do what you think is appropriate.”

Duo saw straight through him. With a heavy sigh, he flipped the completed braid back over his shoulder. “I hate it when you say shit like that. It usually means you don’t approve, but I never really know why.”

Heero winced, feeling suitably chastised. “It’s not that,” he told him. “You should follow your emotions more than what you think duty requires. If your heart tells you to go back, then go back. Do it for you, not for them. Or at least…not _entirely_ for them.”

Duo gave him a half-hearted smile at this, but it morphed quickly into a yawn. Shaking his head and scrubbing his eyes, Duo muttered, “Okay – food eaten. Nap time.” Following the announcement, he slid his body down the couch, his knees bending up while his feet pressed against Heero’s thigh.

Heero’s mouth twitched at the corners, just barely a smile. “Want me to leave? Clearly you’re crashing here.”

“Nah,” Duo told him, as he drifted off. “It’d probably help me sleep if I can hear you movin’ around.”

At this, Heero stood and collected the now-empty plate from the coffee table and walked to the kitchen to place it gently in the sink to deal with later. He then walked back through the apartment’s common area to Duo’s room where he pulled a blanket off the bed. 

Returning to the living room, he found Duo fast asleep, curled on his side on the couch. Heero crossed to his roommate’s side and shook out the blanket before draping it over Duo’s sleeping form. When the other man muttered something unintelligible in his sleep, his nose scrunching, Heero reached down to touch his shoulder with his fingertips. The gentle pressure seemed to dispel the distress and as he withdrew, Heero shoved his hands deep into his pockets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Preventers Headquarters  
Geneva, Switzerland  
201 March 19**

“Fuck all of this! That’s it—” Wufei declared loudly, tossing his notepad across the office, “—I quit, I’m done. I’m going to the private sector. Better yet, I’m going to go into business for myself. Take pictures of cute cats and dandelions and sell them as motivational posters. Because only cynical, heartless bastards can make motivational posters.”

“Come on, Zhang – it’s not _that_ bad,” his teammate, Louis Wek, said, trailing behind him. 

“Bullshit,” he cursed. “They lied to us. Straight to our faces. We have it on satellite for fuck’s sake!”

“I’m not sure why you’re so surprised. Or angry,” the other agent said with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe while Wufei stalked about the vacant office. “Of course they lied – everyone lies. Especially to us.”

Wufei rubbed his temples, fighting a budding headache. Most days he enjoyed his job. Today was not one of those days. He vaguely wished Heero was here so that his partner could help relieve the spinning he felt, like a rocket missing a tail fin. “This is going to hit the press soon, I’m sure,” Wufei told Wek. “And when it does, their neighbors are going to _lose it.”_

“And I’m sure cooler heads will prevail before it comes to blows.”

“But if they don’t, we’ll have to send a team in—”

“And tell them all to back the fuck down.”

Wufei snorted at that and shook his head. Turning back to the other man he said, “I was going to say ‘deescalate the situation,’ but if you send Heero with them you can have him run with your idea.”

“Don’t I know it,” Wek agreed with a laugh. “You can always be our ‘disapproving Dad’ on call, but Heero’s up when we need the silent and deadly type.”

Wufei smirked at this. Little did Wek know, he’d learned his ‘disapproving Dad’ from Heero himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Vice Foreign Minister Darlian’s Residence  
L4-V05001  
201 May 1**

The day was growing late, if the fading light from the window behind her was any indication. Relena sat at her desk in the residence’s study, pouring over memos and reports regarding the week’s coming events. 

There was a knock on the door and without looking up, Relena prompted, “Yes?”

With a gentle creak, the door moved aside and her assistant ducked her head into the room. She informed her, “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but there’s a call on the private line.” The other woman sounded more confused than concerned. 

Her assistant was rarely ever confused, in her experience. Such a rare instance was this that Relena wracked her brain for what she herself could’ve missed, some pre-scheduled foray into personal affairs that she had forgotten to put on her official calendar. “From?” Relena asked.

“Mars, ma’am.” 

“Mars?” The word fell from Relena’s lips, betraying her surprise. Could it be…? “Patch it through,” she instructed, swiveling to her computer as her assistant retreated back out of the study. A small box appeared on the screen a moment later, indicating the call was being connected. Relena brushed her hair back over her shoulders and waited with bated breath.

When the video finally came through, she felt her heart nearly burst at the face that greeted her.

“Happy belated birthday, Relena,” Lucrezia Noin said with a gentle smile. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

Relena could feel the tell-tale pricks in her eyes of unshed tears but swallowed them down. “Noin…oh, it’s been too long! You look well. Have you stayed busy? How long have you been on Mars? What are you doing there? Is…is my brother with you?” The words tumbled, awkward and unruly, from her lips and she was gracious that the older woman took them in stride.

“Yes, your brother is with me and he’s well. We came here following Dekim Barton’s insurrection…once we knew you were safe.”

“I lost you in the commotion afterward,” Relena told her. “When I pressed Lady Une, she would say only that you were safe. I hadn’t realized you’d gone so far away.”

The grainy image of Noin gave her a tight, lop-sided grin. “Then she did as I asked. Your brother wanted a clean break, and I couldn’t fault him for that.”

“So what have you been doing in the…five years since then?” 

Noin shrugged. “Working, like everyone else here on Mars – we’re still a decade at least away from a remotely stable atmosphere, so biodomes it is for now.”

“Tell me everything,” Relena urged, and Noin did. She told her of the long shuttle ride, and her de facto marriage to Zechs upon arrival; their cramped corridors and Spartan living conditions; the people she had met and the work they were doing. 

As the older woman spoke, Relena felt herself slowly crumbling. Noin had been a trusted advisor and protector, even if only for a short while in AC 195. She had missed the other woman’s company so very much and now, when they were finally in touch again after so long…she could barely contain her joy. It was almost painful, suddenly knowing where the other woman was, _how_ she was. She sniffled as tears rolled down her cheeks before she could catch them and hoped Noin wouldn’t notice.

But of course she did. “Relena…” she began gently. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Relena assured. “Nothing’s wrong – I’m just…a bit overwhelmed. It’s so good to talk to you. I miss you terribly…”

There was the briefest of pauses as Noin considered something. When she spoke, it was the reassurance of a sister. “Sally and I try to do these calls monthly…or rather, semi-monthly. She’s gotten rather busy of late and it’s hard to catch her, as I imagine would be the same with you. But…would you like to do the same?”

“Oh yes, very much so,” Relena told her, a wide smile gracing her face. Her cheeks hurt already from grinning so hard.

“Then it’s a date!” Noin assured. “You now know how to get ahold of me – this is our personal line.”

“Is this a good time for you though?”

“As good a time as any – my shifts don’t really change much.”

“Then it is a date.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Noin said, shifting gears, “tell me about what’s going on with you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Preventers Headquarters  
Geneva, Switzerland  
201 June 26**

“Vietnam on Friday,” Wufei said as he read the email that had just popped up onto his screen.

“Oh, fuck me…”

Startled, Wufei swiveled around to stare at his partner, wide-eyed at the ease with which the curse had been deployed. Heero was rarely the crass one. Wufei found his partner sitting with his back to him – as was expected with their office set up – and his head tilted back against his desk chair. His hands had come up to cover his face and shield his eyes from the fluorescents overhead. 

Wufei thought he looked exhausted, an assessment that was only reinforced when Heero _sighed._

When the other agent finally removed his hands and straightened, returning his attention to his computer, a thought crossed Wufei’s mind. “You don’t have to go, you know.”

“I can’t do that,” Heero answered promptly, but then seemed to consider it with great hesitance. Turning, he eyed his partner. “Can I do that? I’m not allowed to do that…am I?”

Wufei shrugged. “I am _technically_ your superior. I don’t really need you to come with me on this one, and I can write up the report on my own when I get back.” 

Heero still seemed dubious about the very suggestion. “I really don’t have to go?”

“No,” Wufei reiterated, turning back to his own computer in a signal that the discussion was over. “Stay here. Do your work, and get some rest.”

A moment of silence passed between them…and then an almost sheepish, “Thank you,” came in response.

Wufei bit back the smile. “Don’t mention it, since you now owe me – you can go on the next one that takes us to the middle of nowhere. With swamps.” He heard Heero chuckle behind him. “And snakes.”

The laughter stopped suddenly. “I _hate_ snakes…”

“I know. As I said – you owe me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Unit #1312, Preventers HQ Subsidized Housing Complex  
Geneva, Switzerland  
201 August 14**

Heero paused outside the closed door to Duo’s bedroom, the clicking of computer keys the only sound from inside. He let his eyes drop to the floor, the yellow glow from under the door casting its light over his bare toes. After a moment of silent contemplation, he looked up and moved through the dark apartment to the kitchen. Flicking on the lights as he walked by the switch, Heero moved to the cabinet and pulled down one of the coffee cups, which he knew Duo had acquired. He paused a moment, turning it over in his hands and reading the inscription from some book he had never read.

_“I have a malformed public-duty gland and am natural deficiency in moral fibre,”_ read the scrawled text, _“and I am therefore excused from saving Universes.”_ [1]

Not for the first time Heero found himself wondering, _You sure about that, Duo?_ As he went about making a rather strong pot of coffee – especially considering the hour – he wondered how much longer this could possibly last. 

Over the past seven months, Duo had been shuttling back and forth between L2 and Geneva with ever greater frequency. Heero knew little about the case, but knew that with each trip, Duo seemed to be more and more involved. No longer was it a simple short-term consulting gig: Duo was in this till the close.

Something about this case was doing something to his roommate. It was eating away at him, slowly, ever so slowly. Like a cancer, it beat him down, invisible and deadly. The nightmares had returned with a vengeance and more often than not, he woke to find the other man asleep in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, his face buried under the pillows or – on one occasion – pressed firmly against Heero’s back as if he had been looking for another heartbeat in the night. Some darkness had taken hold, and it was breaking him down.

“He’s slipping away,” he whispered, the sound of his own voice startling him and he flushed, thankful that the empty walls around him would keep his secrets. Shaking his head, Heero poured the brewed coffee into Duo’s mug and turned off the kitchen light on his way back to the bedroom. Stopping once again in front of Duo’s door, he knocked twice and asked, “You decent?”

He heard Duo’s short, dry laughter over the incessant tapping of keys before, “Come in.”

Heero pushed the door open to find Duo, eyes locked on his computer screen. He ‘sat’ in his desk chair, his legs pulled up underneath his body and his shoulders hunched forward, reminding Heero of a vulture. He would’ve laughed had Duo not taken that moment to lean back in his chair, scrubbing at his face with his hands. He groaned behind his hands, before pulling them away to cast a weary glance up at his roommate. Then he spotted the mug in Heero’s hands. “Coffee?” he asked with a tired smile.

“I figured if you were working late, it might help,” Heero answered, passing him the cup.

“Mm,” Duo hummed happily, taking a long swallow despite the drink’s heat. “You, sir, just got nominated for the ‘best roommate’ award.”

Heero waved off the compliment and stepped out of the doorway. “Whatever works,” he said simply and shut the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] From Douglas Adams’ _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_


	6. Chapter 6

**Private Suite, Espinas Hotel  
Tehran, Iran  
201 October 2**

The fight started as soon as Quatre walked through the door of the hotel suite they were sharing and he spotted the duffel bag on the floor. It intensified when Trowa walked out of the bedroom pulling on his leather jacket. Disbelief crashed into disheartened frustration, concocting a battle of epic proportions – even by their standards – that culminated in the one question Quatre had dreaded for years.

“Do you love me?” Trowa asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Quatre suppressed the shudder that question evoked. “You know I do…” he consoled.

“Really?” Trowa asked, whirling sharply. “Because yesterday I was just your friend from school – part of your cover – not your lover.”

“We’ve been over this,” Quatre sighed, collapsing down on the couch and running his fingers through his blond hair. “Why do you insist on bringing it up?”

He watched Trowa’s jaw clench as he seemed to mull this over and collected himself following the outburst. Crossing to the bay window which opened out onto their balcony, he wrapped his long arms around his body and leaned against the wall as he looked out over the city below. “I can’t do this anymore, Quat,” he said at length. “It kills me every time we’re out in public and I can’t touch you. It kills me every time you humor the masses and go on some date with a beautiful woman. It kills me knowing nobody will ever know who I was to you.”

“Who you are to me,” Quatre corrected, standing to follow the other man to the window. His fingers itched to touch him, but his intuition told him that would be a very bad idea at this moment. So instead, he leaned back against the window frame nearby, wrapping his fingers around the white plaster molding against his back. 

Trowa’s eyes followed the motion, but he didn’t react. Instead, he shook his head and after a pause told him, “I tried for six years to convince myself it didn’t matter – that it didn’t matter that no one else knew, that I didn’t want the extra attention anyway, that so long as we knew…it would be enough. But something changed,” he said, turning away from the window to lock the blond in his sights. 

“It’s not just us anymore. It’s them—” he continued, nodding toward the world outside their window “—and it’s poisoning everything we ever had. You carry that burden with you everywhere you go. Your duty, your obligations.” He all but spat the words. “And you push me aside, and we continue to live this lie, where I mean no more to you than anyone else you know. You won’t let me walk with you, and after six years I doubt you ever will.” Pushing away from the window, he crossed the room and hefted up his duffel by the shoulder strap.

Quatre felt the panic and disbelief rise to his throat, threatening to swallow his words. Lunging after the departing form he urged, “Trowa don’t. Please,” catching the other’s hand as he neared the door.

Turning on his heel, Trowa took Quatre’s face in his free hand and kissed him soundly. Quatre winced against the pain that flared in that kiss. Insurmountable pain. _Did I do this to you…?_

When they parted, Trowa whispered, “I love you, Quatre. But I won’t be your secret anymore. I won’t be your escape from this other life.” With that, he pulled away.

Quatre stood again in shocked silence, watching the other man walk out of the suite and out of his life. “Fuck,” he cursed after a long moment, recovering his senses, his body shaking. Throwing the door open, he bolted down the hall, past his bewildered security detail, to the elevator enclave. One of the car’s doors slid shut as he approached and he cursed again, slapping his hand against the ‘down’ button. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

*****

The elevator ride to the lobby from the presidential suite was agony. Alone for a few moments, Trowa leaned back against the polished walls and took several painful breaths. He scrubbed at his face with his hands and exhaled in a rush of air. After what seemed like an eternity, the cab dinged happily upon arrival on the ground floor and, setting his shoulders, he pushed himself away from the wall as the doors slid apart.

He spared not a glance at the hotel staff bustling about with their wealthy patrons, at the artwork on the walls, at the impressive ceiling or impeccable floor. He instead set his gaze on the glass doors of the hotel’s entrance and focused only on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Trowa! Wait!”

_So much for a clean escape,_ he thought. He was so close to the doors, to leaving – forever – but still his feet slowed to a stop in the middle of the lobby. With a deep breath, he steeled himself and turned as Quatre reached him. 

“Please don’t go,” the blond murmured, his sea green eyes imploring him to reconsider.

Trowa took another deep breath and took a half step forward, bringing them closer. He caught the sidelong glance Quatre gave the hotel staff and felt his anger flare. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Kiss me. Right here. In front of all of these people.” 

Quatre deflated before him. “I can’t…” he whispered at length. [1]

“Then I can’t stay,” Trowa told him. Clenching his jaw, he turned and walked out the door. This time, Quatre didn’t chase him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Easter Egg! Go watch _Saving Face_ , ya’ll.


	7. Chapter 7

**Unit #1312, Preventers HQ Subsidized Housing Complex  
Geneva, Switzerland  
201 October 5**

Word traveled fast.

Heero had dropped the bombshell on his roommate only moments before he left for his weekend gym time, pausing only to direct Duo to his computer where on-screen still resided the private message from Quatre to Heero: 

_It’s over. Please don’t ask._

The stark words – and Heero’s sudden departure – left Duo alone with his swirling thoughts and a pot of coffee. He determined that this of course required a phone call with Wufei.

The other man was not pleased at his morning rituals being disturbed, but when Duo passed the news, the blustering died out as soon as it had arisen. Quatre and Trowa over? For real? Impossible.

“I mean Jesus, if they can’t make it work, what hope do the rest of us have?” asked Duo, ruffling his bangs with his fingers as he stalked aimlessly around the apartment.

“That’s a bit unfair,” Wufei told him, and Duo could swear that he could _hear_ the familiar look of disapproval from over the phone line.

Duo shook his head and collapsed on the couch with a heavy sigh. “Ah, don’t take it like that,” he told him, his head falling backward to rest on the cushions. “It’s just…” He bit his lip, searching for the right words. “They both already knew everything. That’s a huge bridge the rest of us will have to cross at some point, you know? The ‘not telling’ thing.” When Wufei didn’t speak, he prompted, “‘Fei?”

“I see what you mean,” the other man acknowledged, his voice unsteady, “but maybe it’s the knowing too much that gets in the way sometimes…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Geneva, Switzerland  
201 December 12**

Liam Campbell had finally gotten what he wanted: a semi-permanent detail until the case was closed.

Duo had spent the week in Geneva wrapping up the necessary paperwork and transferring the apartment and all that went into it fully over into Heero’s name. 

Heero hadn’t taken the news well. Granted, he didn’t take it poorly either – Heero wasn’t one for dramatics – but Duo could tell. When he’d explained the situation, he’d watched the other man’s jaw clench for the briefest moments before he sighed heavily and walked out of the apartment without a word. 

Duo had at first balked at the reaction, left to wonder if Heero had such little confidence in his decision-making abilities. But by the time Heero had returned, Duo had cooled off enough to have a civil conversation. Any oral argument, however, had been cut off by the box that Heero had then proceeded to shove into his hands.

“What’s this?” Duo had asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Inside was a small silver medallion, barely bigger than the pad of his thumb, attached to a thin silver chain. The card inside read, “Saint Jude, patron saint of lost causes.” [1]

Duo had smirked and looked up at his roommate to say, “You realize I don’t buy any of this right? Despite the priest get-up back in ’95…”

Heero had shrugged off the comment. “Neither do I,” he had told him, “but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.” At this, Heero had retreated to his room and had stayed there the rest of the evening, much to Duo’s mounting confusion.

Now, mere days before he was scheduled to depart for the long-term, he’d brought both Heero and Wufei together for a self-imposed send-off. They’d grabbed dinner and migrated to a pub for drinks afterward. Whatever had stewed between him and Heero had seemed to have dissipated entirely, for which Duo was exceedingly grateful. Laughter and barbs flowed easily over good food with good company. 

It was during one of these bouts that Wufei shared that he was on the search for a new apartment, having grown tired of his absentee landlord. The announcement got the gears spinning in Duo’s head. Turning to Heero, he asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Heero considered for a moment before replying honestly, “With you, I’m never certain.”

“Shit, man. _You_ ,” he began with feeling, jabbing a finger at Heero’s chest, “need a roommate to cover the rent. And _you_ ,” he continued, shifting focus to Wufei, who watched him with wary eyes, “need a place to stay.” Pausing, Duo gestured to them both, his hands raised and palms open. “Kinda eerily serendipitous, no?”

He watched as Heero and Wufei sized each other up in wary, stony silence. And then Heero said, “I don’t see why not.”

“You sure?” Wufei asked, sounding unconvinced.

Heero shrugged off his concern. “I’ve managed this long with Duo as a roommate. I imagine you would be a marked improvement in several areas.” The comment earned genuine, if somewhat pinched, smile from the other man who nodded and accepted the offer.

Grinning like a demon, Duo clasped his hands in front of his face and muttered, “I feel like this is the beginning of a buddy comedy. I expect stories, or it never happened. Pictures too, if I ever want anyone to believe me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Kindest thanks to the lovely folks on Tumblr that helped me bounce around ideas for this one.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may want to refer to this [handy-dandy organization chart](http://41.media.tumblr.com/954158109f5d2e99cebe8695edc53a16/tumblr_nk5arnoiZN1u4xpfwo1_1280.jpg) for this chapter...

**Preventers Headquarters  
** **Geneva, Switzerland**  
**201 December 23**

Renilde Une liked to keep her staff meetings short, but with the holiday fast-approaching, today’s “All Hands” for the Preventers’ core leadership cadre had passed with lightning speed. It probably helped that she had once more approved liberal leave for Headquarters – within 24 hours they were bound to be staffed by a skeleton crew. 

She was somewhat surprised, however, to see a familiar face in the crowd today. Sally Po had taken a seat at the table, her superior nowhere to be seen. She had reported out on the LM division’s goings-on and then gave personal insight to intersectional collaboration, which came as a breath of fresh air. Une idly wondered if there was a way to keep her coming back without promoting her.

As she closed the meeting, the rest of the assembled rising with her before quickly heading for the door, Une said, “Sally, hang back a minute, please.”

“Sure thing,” the blond woman answered, drawing up short and stepping off to the side as the rest of the attendees filed passed her.

Une watched them go and as her special assistant moved to follow them, she waited for him to close the door before turning her attention fully on the other woman. “Where’s your boss?” she asked first. “I was surprised she wasn’t here – she told me last week she would be…”

Sally sighed heavily. “God willing, she is home recuperating. She bowed out with pneumonia.” She smirked then. “Or rather,” she amended, “I forced her out by threat of violence.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Une answered. “I take it you’ve been ‘acting’ this week then.”

“Since last Friday, actually, but yes.”

Une took this on-board and nodded in approval as she turned away to walk back to her desk. “Thank you for coming to this meeting then – I’m sure you had leave you had to cancel. I appreciated your insights on the direction of our field missions. It’s not every day I get to hear a viewpoint amalgamated from two directorates.”

Sally’s smile softened at this. “Glad you approve, ma’am.” Redirecting, she asked, “Was there something you wanted to ask me in particular?” 

“I did actually,” Une admitted, leaning heavily on the polished surface of her desk. “Why did you authorize [1] Duo Maxwell’s transfer to L2-V08744?”

Sally pursed her lips and seemed to consider her words carefully. In the end, all she said was, “I wondered when that might come up…”

“He’s one of our best pilots. Your division has not only authorized repeated renewals of his consulting arrangement, but now has apparently approved a long-term transfer. You know the regulations, Sally…” [2]

“I do indeed. That’s why it’s still listed as a ‘temporary detail,’” Sally countered, her voice even. Taking a few steps forward, she took a position at the head of the conference table and leaned back against it, her fingers curling down over the edge where they were braced at her hip. “If I can put on my field agent cap for a moment – you don’t get rid of an asset that’s helping you get shit done. The entire L2 branch has faced tremendous difficulty in the field because they can’t keep witnesses long enough to make headway on cases. 

“Duo has helped shake loose a number of leads and now he’s become an integral part of the team, for better or worse. We knew it was a risk when we sent him out there for the first 30-day stint, but we took it anyway,” Sally concluded. 

“But can you spare the pilot?” 

Sally considered this before answering. “We just graduated another class. We can spare him.”

“Can we?” Une asked again, dubious. Duo Maxwell was a veritable force of nature – he’d never failed to secure a team from the field, and even with the crash over a year ago, the entire crew and their passengers had walked away from the wreckage largely unscathed. No pilot came close to such a record and she doubted anyone would.

“We’ll have to,” Sally told her. “The leads they’ve uncovered are…concerning.”

Une quirked an eyebrow at this. “How do you know?”

Sally grinned. “Because like a good little field agent, he’s been sending reports home. I get to see them as the approving officer on his detail, even if he’s technically routing them through the Liaison and CTC offices.”

Une decided not to comment on the fact that Sally’s colleagues in said offices had yet to say anything to her about these reports. She made a note to prod the system a bit. “What is he seeing?” she asked instead, bracing for impact. “Please tell me we don’t have another orbital resistance forming…”

The other woman shook her head. “No, nothing of the sort. What started as a small arms and drug trafficking has become something else. This is bigger than just some small-scale gangsters trying to make some easy cash.”

“The mob?” Une pressed. When Dekim Barton met his end, his council of fellow business moguls and crime lords had splintered, their leaders fleeing into the wind to divorce themselves from the man and his rebellion. Since the insurrection, they’d apparently given up on dreams of open rebellion and had been content to launder money and push drugs and guns on whoever would pay. It was a slow-burning fire that they had yet to be able to put out. “What are they up to?”

“Duo’s not sure, and neither is the branch chief for the record,” Sally told her. Pushing away from the table she slid her hands into her pockets. “We’ll see what January brings, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Une echoed, lost in though. “Keep me informed Sally. That’s all.”

The other woman nodded, acknowledging the request, and moved to the door where she paused to look back. “Ren,” she said gently, “I do hope you get some time off this week. Spend some time with your girl.”

Une schooled her features at the unexpected drop of her name…and mention of the young redhead hidden away at boarding school. _Best kept secret in the whole damn chain of command,_ she mused, but then her thoughts turned to a certain pair of agents working several floors down. _Well, perhaps second best._ “Next week,” she said at last, “before the New Year. Her school has its own activities planned for Christmas, and classes begin again the first week of January.”

“Next week,” Sally repeated, clearly rolling this new information around her head. After a pause, she said, “A few of us are getting together on the 25th – food, drinks, good times. Just to decompress a bit. You should come.”

Une faltered at the suggestion. “I…don’t think that’d be wise. I can’t imagine they’d want to see their boss on their downtime when they already see me too often.”

Sally shook her head. “Rank stays in the office,” she countered. “A bit of fun might do you good. You’d be my guest.”

“No…no, that’s alright. Thank you though.” 

She could almost convince herself that Sally looked disappointed when met with resistance. “Well...alright,” the other woman said finally, admitting defeat. “But the invitation is open, in case you change your mind.” With an easy smile and sultry wink, Sally bowed out of the office and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] As a refresher, Sally started working in the CTC division under the African Affairs directorate and worked her way up the ranks before transferring to the Logistics and Mission Support (LM) directorate where she serves as a Deputy Director under the division’s Principal Deputy Director (making her the second-in-command). While there, in addition to other duties, she approves INFIL/EXFIL missions like the ones Duo ran as a pilot. Any transfer (temporary or otherwise) goes through her.
> 
> [2] Preventers agents are not permitted to serve in their home colony/country. It helps prevent them from being compromised by unsavory characters.


End file.
